Chapter 28.
Lara’s right. I need to talk to Ash. But I don’t know where to start. How does anyone go about confessing something so outlandish?
We have a date on Wednesday, but I end up cancelling because I’m working late. Thursday night, Ash forgets he’s made plans for a poker night. So by the time I think I might be able to talk to him, it’s a full week after my conversation with Lara.
Friday is boiling, a thick soup of heat. We drive out to Suffolk after work, to cool off in the lido.
We swim lazily for an hour, then pull up a couple of loungers to soak up the last of the sunshine. Swifts swoop above our heads, snatching insects from a sticky web of sky. The air sparkles with water thrown up by other swimmers. Next to me, a handsome man is prone topless on a sun lounger, and he is mine. Despite everything that’s been going on in my head, if I had to define contentment, this moment would come pretty close.
‘Neve,’ Ash says, after a few minutes. Though my eyes are shut, I sense his voice turn towards me. ‘I’m going to say something now, and take full advantage of us being in public, and you not being able to run away. Are you ready?’
I open my eyes and smile. ‘Should I be scared?’
He extends a hand, running one finger along my bare shoulder. ‘That depends.’
‘On?’
‘Your appetite for soppiness.’
I feel the traffic light of my heart turn green. ‘I’m the one who suggests soppy movies for first dates, remember?’
‘All right then. Do you know what tonight is?’
‘Tonight right now... or tonight when we get home?’
Our gazes collide. He smiles. ‘Tonight right now. Two months ago today, what we were doing?’
I frown, feigning bemusement. ‘Were we... discussing where you got your wine glasses?’ I’m just teasing, of course. I know exactly what we were doing. Listening to London Grammar, kissing for the very first time.
‘Nope.’ He leans over, putting his lips to mine. And tonight, his kiss feels different. Long and lingering, tender like a message. A love song. ‘Neve, I need to tell you something,’ he whispers, but then the air grows suddenly cool and dark, as if a cloud has just swallowed the sun.
We peel apart and look up. A short, stout woman in a striped halter-neck swimming costume is standing over us.
‘Excuse me. I hope you don’t mind me asking, but are you the man who got struck by lightning?’
Perhaps reflexively, we all glance at Ash’s torso. He can hardly deny it – the scars are on show for anyone to look at, if they’re nosy enough.
Ash looks back up at her. ‘Er, yep. That’s me.’
She grins like she’s won a bet. ‘Would you mind if I took a selfie?’ She waggles her phone at us.
Why? I want to say. He had a horrific accident and nearly died. He’s not a celebrity . I mean, I think his scars are kind of beautiful, but that doesn’t mean I’m excited by what happened to him. This woman is probably the same class of ghoul who’d stop to video a road traffic accident rather than dial 999.
She passes me her phone. ‘Would you mind?’
Ash slips me an apologetic expression and shrugs.
‘You’re not allowed to take photos here,’ I tell her, gesturing to the bright red notice fixed to the railings behind us.
‘Oh, quickly,’ she pleads. ‘While the lifeguard’s looking the other way.’
I glance again at Ash, who mouths, ‘It’s fine,’ which I suspect is code for Just do it to get rid of her . So, reluctantly, I check the lifeguard’s head is turned before snapping a picture of the woman with her arm around Ash. She’s grinning widely, all teeth and no inhibitions.
We watch as she walks back to her friends, shows them the photo on the screen, gestures back over towards Ash. We are both sitting upright now, relaxation suddenly a distant memory. I notice Ash has arranged his towel over the patch of skin where his scars are.
‘How can people be so insensitive? That was awful.’
‘Ah, it’s okay. I blame the papers, really. They made such a big deal about it at the time.’
‘But to be so crass like that—’
‘Well, people are, aren’t they? Everything’s currency these days. Even other people’s trauma.’
I admire him for being so polite. Feeling oddly close to tears, I decide to try to change the subject, take our minds off it. ‘So,’ I say gently, ‘you said you had something to tell me?’
He hesitates, glancing back over to the woman. The group of people surrounding her seems to have grown. People are glancing towards us. A man’s even shading his eyes against the sun to get a better look.
‘Yeah,’ he says, ‘but I’d prefer to do it without an audience. Shall we get out of here?’
Back at Ash’s apartment, the last of the furniture and fittings I helped him order have arrived. So I delay my shower in favour of spending a satisfying hour or so making everything look beautiful, while Ash stays in the kitchen, cooking a pad thai.
‘You were so nice to that woman, earlier,’ I say, once we’re sitting cross-legged on the floor, bowls of noodles in our laps, surrounded by bubble wrap and cardboard and paper guarantees. I’m just about done unboxing and arranging a standard lamp. ‘Not sure I’d have been that calm.’
‘Wasn’t really worth picking a fight over.’
‘People are so entitled these days. Do you think this is how celebrities feel?’
‘Yeah, except I don’t get any of the perks of being a celebrity, do I? I’m just half known for something a bit shit.’
‘I’m sorry,’ I say.
‘It’s fine, really. Anyway, you being there made the whole thing infinitely more bearable.’
Setting down my empty bowl, I plug in the lamp. It springs to life. ‘Ta-da.’
The rugs, console tables and lamp are the finishing touches: the area has at last been transformed from echoey vault into stylish space. ‘You see,’ he says, swivelling round to survey the end result. ‘I could never have done that.’
I smile. ‘You could. You must pick up ideas when you’re working on projects?’
‘Yeah, but... I can never translate them into what would look good here . I just don’t have the right kind of brain.’
I get what he means. A fair amount of my job involves working with – and sometimes adjusting – architects’ plans, but that doesn’t mean I could do what they do.
‘Well, I love your brain,’ I say.
A couple of moments pass. His expression becomes serious. He sets down his bowl, reaches out and takes my hand. ‘On that note.’
My heart waits, hard.
He clears his throat. ‘What I was trying to tell you earlier was that... I’ve never felt about anyone the way I feel about you, Neve. I’ve never... tracked the days and weeks. I’ve never wanted to spend every spare minute I have with another person. And I know it’s all been a bit of a whirlwind, but... I really think this could go somewhere.’
Or maybe it just feels like a whirlwind, because, actually, we were already there. We already knew and loved each other. We just got to skip to the good bit.
He lets out a breath, then looks me right in the eyes. ‘What I’m trying to say is that I... I’m falling in love with you. I love you, Neve.’
Before he’s even finished speaking, I know I feel the same. Albeit in a more complicated way, but that doesn’t make it any less true. ‘I love you too,’ I say, the words coming easily.
He leans forward to kiss me, like he can’t hold back for one second longer. His skin still carries the scent of chlorine. I can taste lime on his tongue. He moves a hand to the back of my head, gently grasping my hair, which is still softly tangled from the water earlier. The kiss becomes long and full, and after a minute or so, he runs a hand beneath the blue cotton of my dress. I respond, sliding my fingers inside his T-shirt, over the spot of skin where I know his lightning scars to be. The heat of his touch skims my thighs. As I shut my eyes, he dips his head to kiss my collarbone. ‘Jamie,’ I murmur.
Everything freezes. Instantly, the room is gripped by a chill.
Ash pulls sharply away. He stares at me as though I’ve slapped him.
‘I’m sorry,’ I say, knowing even before I speak that no words can make up for what I just did.
He runs a hand through his hair, fighting to regain his stolen breath. ‘Wow,’ he says, eventually, not looking at me.
A few moments pass, stiff and tense and devastating. I have no idea what to say or do next. I can’t understand what just happened. I wasn’t thinking about Jamie, not in that moment. I wasn’t imagining it was Jamie touching me, or Jamie I was kissing.
‘Ash, I honestly don’t know why I said that,’ I whisper, my voice shaking.
His dark eyes regard me. ‘Well, my guess is that you were thinking about your ex-boyfriend Jamie.’
‘I wasn’t. I really wasn’t.’ I put a hand on his arm, but he flinches away. ‘I think I just... He’s been on my mind lately because you do remind me of him—’
He lifts a hand to his face and rubs vigorously. ‘Argh. Why did I just—’ And then he breaks off, and I feel my heart curl up into a ball, because the time between Ash telling me he loved me and me calling him Jamie must have been less than thirty seconds.
What the hell is wrong with me?
He jettisons a breath. ‘Look... I get... that you loved him, Neve. I do. But if you’re saying his name while we’re together, I can’t... I can’t really deal with that. Especially after Tabitha, I—’
‘I know,’ I say, feeling the shame like a punch. ‘I honestly don’t know why I said it.’
He looks at me, long and hard. ‘Far be it from me to psychoanalyse you, but if you genuinely don’t know why you said it, maybe you need to ask someone who does.’
This is what I was scared of. Being seen as crazy. In need of professional help.
‘I wasn’t lying, Ash,’ I whisper. ‘I do love you.’
He nods, but slowly, sceptically. ‘Or maybe I just remind you of someone you used to love.’
The words crash-land in my chest.
‘ No ,’ I say. Because even though I can’t deny that, I am also sure that if I’d never met Jamie, I would still want all this. I would still have fallen in love with the man in front of me right now. Wouldn’t I?
His head is in his hands now. ‘This felt real to me, Neve.’
‘It was. It is. I—’
‘But it turns out I’m just second-best to your ex.’
‘ No ,’ I insist again.
‘Okay. So if Jamie walked back in here right now, what would you do?’
I swallow, hard. My voice can hardly make it up for air. ‘That’s not fair,’ I whisper.
‘Maybe not. But the fact the answer doesn’t come easily tells me everything I need to know.’
‘Ash—’
‘We should call it a night,’ he says coolly, clearing his throat. ‘I need some breathing space.’ He gets to his feet, picks the bowls off the floor, then heads over to the sink, like he doesn’t even want to be near me any more.
My whole body becomes a silent scream. Just tell him – tell him what you believe! It could change everything! But somehow my brain won’t co-operate and free the words from my mouth.
‘Okay,’ I say eventually. ‘I’ll call a cab.’
He nods then disappears towards the bedroom. I book a cab, then gather my things and wait mutely on the sofa. After a while, it becomes clear he won’t be coming out to see me off.
Frustration loops through me, a murky cycle of recrimination. We’ve had the perfect couple of months, but now everything is a mess. And I have no idea how to fix it. If I even can.